Three hundred years ago, fallen flowers fell one after another, and the fairy garden was dotted with red and green, and was filled with desolation.
Three hundred years later, the music of the piano is clanging, the gauze skirts of the pavilions are fluttering, and it is extremely beautiful.
She was just fluttering like a butterfly, but unexpectedly she got a startling glance. In an instant, she felt that her heart stopped beating.
That year, he was the pear blossom in her courtyard, flying into her palm, she smiled slightly, and became his catastrophe in this life.
That year, he was her playmate in times of trouble, playing the jade flute for her, and she danced beautifully, spiraling into his dreams every night.
This life, past lives.
We know that yesterday and today have passed.
The wind is as lingering as a dream.